A Pirate Romance
by ICRepresentative
Summary: After ten years, Jack returns to Tortuga to look for a good time. He finds himself confronting the one girl who never wanted to see him again... One shot.


**Disclaimer**: POTC is love. Jack Sparrow - he does a body good!

**A/N**: No, I'm not replacing Squirrel. This is a separate fic.

And the time thingy that's going on? Well, Jack was captain of the Black Pearl. Then Barbossa took it. For ten years, Jack wasn't the captain of the Black Pearl. Now he's captain again. Does that help?

* * *

Jack sauntered through the streets of Tortuga, his hands in his coat pockets, whistling through his teeth. The _Pearl_ had raked in a good haul, and what he'd had in his pockets had doubled in the last hour thanks mostly to a fool who couldn't play his cards right. 

Jack was feeling lucky tonight. But then, Captain Jack Sparrow always makes his own luck.

As he swaggered into the town square, the ladies who were lounging around looking bored suddenly straightened up, stretching into languid poses or feigning disinterest. Jack grinned as he passed them by. He'd have a good look around before he made his selection.

But one girl caught his eye. She had her back to him, and was completely absorbed in her task.

Jack stared for a moment, unbelieving, then his trademark smirk slid back into place. He crept up behind her with all the grace of a hunting cat… Then grabbed her, putting his hands over her eyes and pulling her close. "Guess who?" He murmured into her hair. By the Powers, she still smelt so good…

The woman writhed in his grasp. "Let go of me! Let go!"

Jack laughed. "Not 'til you guess who I am, darlin'!"

"Don't touch me, Jack Sparrow!"

Jack leapt back, laughing, as the woman turned and swiped at the air in fury. He stopped laughing when her open hand connected with the side of his face with a resounding SLAP. Jack half-whirled, the beads in his hair flying across his face.

Jack turned back to the woman, confused and hurt. "What the hell was that for?"

"That was for never coming back." The woman snapped, anger destroying the beauty of her face. She raised her hand again and slapped him again, twice. "And that was for lying to me!" Her voice caught at that, but her face never lost its scowl. She turned her back on the pirate and resumed washing her clothes in the water trough.

Jack put a hand to his face. The woman's words had stung him more than her blows. "Cheryl, luv, what are you talking about?"

The woman stopped, and snorted in amazement. "You don't even remember?" She shook her head at him, horrified but still very angry, "You remember my name, but nothing else?"

"I remember how good you were that night." Jack grinned easily, hoping to calm the woman down.

She scowled at him. "Why am I not surprised." She resumed her attack on the laundry with fierce concentration.

"Cheryl… I haven't seen you in years, and this is how you greet…" He sidled a little closer to her, "An old friend?"

"You're no friend of mine," she said stiffly, "If you were, you would have kept your promises." She took the wet shirt and wrung it out, then dropped it into a basket at her feet. She turned to face Jack, her eyes burning and her hands balled into fists. "Why did you lie to me?"

"I didn't lie to you, Cheryl. Honestly."

"Then why didn't you come back, Sparrow?" She asked softly, somehow a low silky voice sounding much more dangerous than her shouting. "Why didn't you come back?"

"Because I…" He suddenly became aware of the whole town square watching the drama unfold. He realised how he looked, his hands out to Cheryl, pleading and begging with an angry woman. He knew how it looked. He quietly put his hands back in his coat pockets. There was no way in hell that anyone would say that Jack was pleading with a whore. He lifted his head and tried to look in control.

But Cheryl took his new posture as his answer. She nodded and waved a hand at him. "There you have it. Captain Jack Sparrow, the most dishonest man to ever sail the seas."

"Now, look, luv," Jack said, well aware that his fingers were itching to wave and express himself, "I may be dishonest, but I always keep my word." He smiled teasingly. "And as I recall, you made a promise as well."

Cheryl said nothing, and her face was as blank and as expressionless as stone.

"So," Jack asked conversationally, bringing one of his hands up for air. He examined his fingernails with nonchalance, "How many men have shared your bed since we last spoke, darling?"

Cheryl's jaw tightened. "You were my first and only, Jack Sparrow."

Jack grinned. "Really? I was that good, was I?"

The woman scowled, but there was a hint of a triumphant smile playing about her lips. "Don't flatter yourself. After the child, I lost all my equipment. I couldn't have had another man even if I wanted to."

Jack stared, goosebumps parading up and down his skin as the words sank in. "Child? I have… you had a…" He rocked back in his heels and stared at the woman. "Cheryl? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Maybe the fact that you've been at sea for years had something to do with it."

Jack stepped closer to the woman, and she took a step back. He kept coming towards her, and she kept backing away. It wasn't until she was backed up against the water trough that Jack could take hold of her shoulders and look into her sea-green eyes. "Cheryl…" For once, words failed him.

"Don't touch me," she stepped out of his grip. "I swore I'd never let another man touch me. You included. Good evening, Jack Sparrow." She turned away.

"Cheryl, how was I supposed to know you were pregnant?"

"MAYBE the fact that I made you PROMISE to come back before the year was OVER!" She exploded, years of rage finally released. "MAYBE the fact that I PROMISED I would love no other man! Maybe, just maybe, the fact that I…" Her anger dissolved into a pair of tears, one for each eye, which Cheryl quickly wiped away. "Maybe the fact that I kept hoping, watching my stomach swell, ignoring the pleas of the other whores to just scrape the baby away because you were never coming back…"

She stepped sideways away from the trough as a man riding a horse came up. He handed her the reins, barely sparing either Jack or Cheryl a passing glance, then headed for the nearest tavern. Cheryl turned her back on Jack to tie the horse to a nearby pole, removed its bit, and let the horse drink from the trough. She patted its neck gently as it rumbled its gratitude.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" Jack asked gently.

"Both," Cheryl answered, her back still to him, "I gave birth to twins."

Jack looked up at the stars. "Twins…" He whispered, closing his eyes - though whether in prayer, exasperation or gratitude, even Jack himself didn't know. "And you hate me because I never came back?"

"You took away everything from me, Sparrow." Cheryl continued softly, turning. "My pride, my dignity, my purse… and the chance I had to go back to my parents and beg for forgiveness. Two children, Jack! How am I supposed to explain them?" She turned back to face him, no longer angry, but desperate. "What was I supposed to say? That I was raped by a pirate and didn't have the heart to end two innocent lives? That I married a sailor and he never came home, that his ship was missing after a terrible storm? Or how about the truth: that I slept one night with a dishonest man, a bad man, a man who never kept his word?" She shook her head, tears welling up again. "I couldn't. I could never go home. And I had nothing to look forward to… aside from giving my children a chance." The desperation vanished, and she scowled again. "My children will be better off never seeing your face."

Something rose up inside Jack, a paternal protectiveness he never knew he possessed. "They're our children, Cheryl!"

Cheryl stared at him, incredulous. "Our children? _Our_ children!" She stabbed a finger at Jack's chest. "They are _my_ children, Jack! All you did was stick your cock in one night and then left with the morning. You weren't there nine months later when I had to ask a gaggle of whores to be my midwives! You weren't there when I had to ask a drunken priest to bless the babies! You weren't there to help me find food and clothes and shelter for all three of us!" She shook her head, and all but spat at him, "They were never _our_ children, Jack! You were _never _there! And now, you're back, and you think you can tell me what to do? You may be their father, but they are not your children." She stared down at him, her eyes flinty. "They are _my_ children, Jack. Not ours. You are not part of this family."

Jack bowed his head and stepped back. She was right. Cheryl had hit one of his weakest points without even knowing it. Pirate though he was, what man doesn't dream of having a family? Even one who spends his every night with whores? And now, he had lost the only chance of having the one thing a pirate couldn't take.

Cheryl stepped back, as though sensing she had gone too far. She picked up her basket and made to leave.

"Come with me." Jack whispered.

Cheryl turned to face him. "What?"

Jack turned back to the woman… to the mother of his children. "The _Pearl _leaves with the next tide; come with me. Bring the… your children. You won't have to ever worry about being fed or clothed or alone anymore. I'll take care of you." He sighed. "It's the least I can do, seeing as I've been such a lousy father to them…"

But Cheryl shook her head. "No." She took a breath and continued more strongly. "No, Jack. I'm not going to leave what little I have here and leap into your arms. I'm not uprooting the children and flinging myself on some wild ocean adventure for your sake. Pirates are hanged, Jack. I'm not risking my neck - and my children's necks - for you."

Jack put his hand on her shoulder and tried to grin. "They'll never catch us, Cheryl. Never. You know the stories."

She nodded, "I know the stories, Jack. I just don't know the truth anymore." She sighed, the continued, "I thought I knew you, but then… it was very dark at the time." She looked up under her eyelashes at him. "I wasn't able to see your eyes, so how could I have known you were lying?"

Jack gently brushed the tears away from her face. "Cheryl, luv, I'm so sorry."

"So am I, Jack. So am I." She stepped away from him and marched off with her head held high.

Jack watched her go, no longer feeling as lucky as he did. He put his hands in his pockets and headed for the nearest tavern.

Jack had never been this drunk before. Sure, there were times when he had gotten abso-bloody-lutely plastered after a good haul, and then there was that time on the island where drinking made the hours go by pleasantly considering he was marooned, but he had never gotten drunk after losing the best he'd had.

He'd never lost the best he'd ever had before. He'd never lost the best he'd ever had and didn't even know it before. He'd never known he'd lost the best he'd ever had and didn't even know it.

_Face it, Sparrow. You've finally become a crying drunk_.

He stared around at the tavern, watching the people and tables and everything blur into dull colours. He watched people fighting and drinking and moving around without seeing what they were doing.

He downed the rest of the bottle and started crying all over again.

Oh, he was really drunk, alright. He couldn't see for… another bottle of rum! He opened it clumsily and started drinking that one. He couldn't see anything. Whether it was the rum or the tears or something in the air, he didn't know. Didn't care. He had enough money to get smashed like a Ming vase if he felt like it.

Come to think about it, what did he need Cheryl for, anyway? Having a family would only tie him down. No, Captain Jack Sparrow never gets tied down, nope. He has to be free, always, all the time. Stupid Cheryl. Stupid woman, having those stupid stupid kids.

He bashed his head on the table, and heard, faintly, the sound of glass bottles being broke on the floor.

"Captain Jack Sparrow, I presume?" A whiny voice pierced through his drunken haze.

"Pissorf," Jack slurred, "Not intr'sted."

The blur in front of him put hands on hips. "Captain Sparrow? Not interested in a pretty face? I could set you up for the night, Jack. Make it worth your while."

The woman's nasal voice was getting on his nerves. He grabbed at the nearest thing he could find and threw it in her direction. "PissORF!" He realised too late that what he'd thrown was his coin pouch.

Laughter. "You throw money at me to make me go away? So generous, you are, Captain Jack."

Jack put his head back down on the table. "Go away."

For a while, the woman's voice was silent. The only noises in the tavern were the usual ones - the brawling, the drinking, the swearing, the screeches and laughter of the patrons. No nosy, noisy whore to try and take advantage of him while he was obviously NOT in the mood for any kind of company…

He felt someone helping him to his feet, putting his arm around their shoulders, and starting to drag him away from the table. Maybe, if he wasn't drunk and crying like a baby, he might just fight to get away.

A baby.

He started crying again.

The room smelt close, of smoke and fire, and of damp and the sea, and faintly, the smell of bread. Jack opened his eyes, blearily, then decided it wasn't such a good idea. The light burned his eyes.

Instead, he just lay still, trying to figure out where the hell he was. He knew he was in a bed - he could tell from the pillow under his head and the sheets covering him. The sheets smelled of smoke and the scent of a woman's hair. He wasn't wearing his hat or coat anymore. His belt was missing too, and his effects. Jack willed himself not to leap up in a burst of rage. Or extravagance. He just lay there, and listened. He heard the crackling of a fire, the sound of Tortuga's night noises outside, and a light, repetitive scratching noise.

Someone, he realised, was in the room with him.

He groaned. For a moment, the scratching stopped.

"My head feels like there's a Frenchman living in it." Jack coughed. And it was true.

"I'm not surprised," a woman's voice, soft and lilting, commented dryly. "You drank enough alcohol to sink a ship." The scratching started again, quicker this time.

"Where the hell am I?" Jack slurred.

"Keep still," the woman snapped, though not harshly. Jack did as she said. The scratching continued for a few more seconds, then stopped. Jack heard the sound of someone rising to their feet, crossing the room, and picking up and putting down things.

He risked opening his eyes. Candlelight blinded him, and the rum made his vision spin, but he kept his eyes open. Someone in blue was knelt by the fire.

"Who are you?" He croaked. "Where the hell am I?"

"Oh, shutup." The woman said, coming over, a damp cloth in hand. She put it on his forehead - it was cooling, but wasn't exactly applied with care. "You've given me enough trouble tonight. Just lie there until you're sober enough to leave. Then leave."

"And good evening to you too, luv." Jack muttered. He breathed in the scent of the sheets and pillow again, and suddenly he knew exactly where he was. He recognised the smell of her hair. The woman stood over him, her eyes locked on his, frozen, as though knowing, somehow, he finally recognised her.

"Well," Jack drawled, dryly, "This is a lovely surprise, Cheryl. Considering you never wanted to see me again."

"Oh, still your tongue." She growled. "I've already spent ages fighting with my conscience. Don't make me throw you out and prove her right. It wouldn't be the first time she'd laughed in my face about me making a bad decision."

"What?"

But Cheryl ignored him. "What on earth possessed you to drink like that?" She sounded exasperated. "I've had to send word to your crew that you're incapacitated, and in no condition to…"

"I'm fine." Jack sat up, and managed a smile. "Unlike some people, I manage to hold my drink just fine." His entire body disagreed with him - he had a mother of a headache, he felt like he was going to puke again, and he needed to piss. Badly. But he wasn't about to admit it to Cheryl. He passed her the damp cloth. "So now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be on my merry way."

Cheryl said nothing, but took - took, not snatched - the cloth from his hand. "Of course, Captain," she said softly, turning her back on him, "I wouldn't dream of keeping you here another minute. The door's over there."

Jack squinted. "Is that how you say goodbye?"

"It's better than your way, certainly."

Ouch. Jack tried to look uninjured as he rose shakily to his feet. Cheryl kept her back to him as he moved across the wooden floors.

"Cheryl…"

She turned, and found herself staring into his eyes. "What?" She asked, her resolve slowly being worn away.

"I'm sorry."

Cheryl winced, as though he'd slapped her. "Ten years too late, Jack." Then her face softened. "But apology accepted."

"Really? You sure about that?"

There wasn't much more to it. Drunk, nursing a hangover, unsteady on his feet, Sparrow was still able to put his lips to hers and steer her towards the bed. And she, for her part, let him, even helping his hands to where she remembered them to have touched her all those years ago. He kissed her, again and again, and inhaled deep the smell of her clothes, her skin, her hair. And she traced his scars, clawed at his back, murmured in the firelight.

_This is how it was, Jack remembered, she was scared, but so, so, eager_… _And so beautiful_.

Suddenly, she pushed him away.

"By the Powers, Jack Sparrow," she gasped fearfully, rearranging her clothes, "That's enough!" There were tears in her eyes as she scuttled away from the bed. Jack lifted his head, his bandana askew.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"I told you," she whispered. "After the children… I can't, Jack. I… I just can't." She sat down in a chair by the fire. "If I… If I took another man… it… it would kill me." She shuddered, fighting tears. "I'd die."

"What are you talking about?"

She struggled with both deep anguish and embarrassment at once. "If I… sleep with another man… and as I don't have the organ anymore… so it'd kill me." She sobbed a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "The twins… their birth… it was difficult. I… I… I almost died, Jack. And now… Now I can't…" She took a deep shuddering breath, but said no more.

Jack sighed, and brushed a hand through his hair. Well, what was he to say to that? _'Sorry, better luck next time'? 'Tough break, luv'_? "Are you sure?"

Cheryl seemed to recover some of her composure enough to snort. "Sure enough."

Jack watched her, carefully. He didn't know whether to contest her statement or not. Was it possible for a girl to die from… a night with a man? It seemed more like an old wife's tale. But considering it had been Cheryl's first pregnancy… it could be possible.

More to the point, _had_ Cheryl lost her womb to a difficult birth? Or was it just what the 'gaggle of whores' that Cheryl claimed she had for midwives concocted to make her despair? Certainly, they'd tried to convince her to end the pregnancy… why not convince her that there was no way that she could ever be with Sparrow again? Jealous cows. As if life wasn't hard enough for Cheryl already.

Jack sat up slowly, wincing at the pounding headache. He managed a smile. "Well, at least it's nice to know you're not mad at me any more."

"Mad?" Cheryl shook her head. "I'm beyond mad now, Jack. I'm furious." She sighed. "But I can't blame all my misfortunes on you. It was my own pride which stopped me from going home. If I'd been able to seek a doctor, maybe even a real midwife, it might've been different." She paused significantly, then added, "I might've been able to make some real money. Promise or no promise." She sounded weary, defeated. She poked the fire with a poker, listlessly.

"So how do you get by, then?" As soon as Jack said it, he wished he hadn't. But Cheryl only sighed again.

"I send the kids out."

"You do WHAT!"

Cheryl looked at him, frowning. "Not like that! There's no way in hell I'd let my kids… No! We may be desperate, but we're not that desperate, Jack!" She shook her head. "No! No, no, no… They're thieves. Pickpockets." There was pride in her voice. "The little rogues could rob you blind and you'd never notice."

"Well," Jack smiled, trying to make a joke, "When you're blind, I guess you wouldn't."

Jack was rewarded by a smile from Cheryl. "True enough." She nodded, thoughtfully. "True enough."

Jack was suddenly aware of the silence of the room. "Cheryl, where _are_ the kids?"

"Working," she said simply. "Trying to keep the three of us alive."

Jack got out of the bed and padded across the floor. Cheryl purposely kept her eyes down at the fire. Unlike Cheryl, he saw no need to redress himself. "Where?" He asked.

Cheryl shrugged. "Out there, somewhere. But they never go very far."

Jack stood behind Cheryl and started massaging her shoulders. She groaned somewhere between pleasure and pain, and let him continue. For once, she did not resent the feeling of his hands on her.

"You're very tense," Jack murmured. Cheryl nodded in reply, her eyes closed. "Why stay here?" Jack asked, "If you hate it, and it's hard to get by, why not leave?"

"I've got nowhere to go," she whispered.

"My offer still stands, luv," Jack whispered back. "Come with me. Leave this hole behind - sail on the _Pearl _with me. Bring the kids. You'll never have to worry about going hungry again."

Cheryl moved away from his hands. She stood and turned to face him.

"No." She said. In that one word, her voice trembled, tears welled in her eyes… and she was forced to move away from him. Jack reached out for her, followed her.

"Cheryl, luv," he took her face in his hands and stared into her eyes, uncomprehending. "Why not?"

"I can't." She whispered. "I just can't." She slowly pulled away and made for the fire. Jack sighed, but watched her, silently. She was making tea. And there were two cups waiting. Jack smiled despite himself. She still kept that same old tea-set.

There wasn't much else changed about this place, Jack realised as he looked around. The same bed. The same decorations. And Jack was pretty sure that the roses drying over the mantle were the same ones from ten years ago, but he couldn't be sure. Something had changed though - the far wall was decorated with charcoal sketches. Jack ambled over to examine them. There were sketches of roses, of sunsets, of the waves, of people, and of everyday items… all in great detail.

They were good, there was no doubt about it. "What are these?"

"My artwork," Cheryl said. "Before the kids came, it was my only way of scraping by. A penny for a portrait." Jack looked back at the woman in time to see her lips twist wryly. "Though, more often than not, they're used to light tobacco pipes."

Jack turned back to the pictures. Looking around, he spotted one of himself. His eyes were closed in an uneasy sleep, but Cheryl had smoothed away the worry lines, his worst of his scars and care-lines, and made him… well, twice as handsome as he already was… If that was even possible. So that was the scratching noise he had heard while he had been sleeping. Cheryl was drawing him.

"This one for you?" He asked, picking it up.

Cheryl looked up and saw what he was holding. She shook her head. "No. But I'll probably get a couple of coppers from some girl down at the docks, pining away for Captain Jack Sparrow to come back and hold her."

Jack winced. That one hurt. He put the picture back in its place. He turned back to find Cheryl pouring tea for the both of them.

"What's this?" He asked, jokingly, "A truce?"

"Its tea," she said softly, no longer mocking him. "You'll need it. I'm guessing that headache isn't gone yet."

"I haven't got a headache," Jack grinned, suddenly reminded of the dull, aching throb pounding in his skull. "And I'm not leaving yet. Not until I get what I came for."

"And what _did_ you come for?" Cheryl asked, sitting back in her chair, her fingers wrapped around the handle of her teacup. "I thought you just came to get drunk and spend the night with Giselle again." She sipped at the tea, her eyes level.

Jack sat down and picked up his tea. He'd drink it to be polite to Cheryl, but no-one'd see him drink it in public. Truth be told, he rather liked tea. It made him feel a little bit more civilised, a little bit like a proper gentleman (even if he was only a gentleman of fortune). Besides… Cheryl never used sugar - she preferred to use rum. It was cheaper, and easier to get, on Tortuga anyway. And it tasted a whole lot better to Jack.

"You," he said simply.

Cheryl looked up at him. "Me?" She laughed softly, deriding herself. "What good would I be, captain. I can't sleep with a man. I'd die, remember? And all I'm good for is drawing with charcoal."

Jack said nothing, but drank his tea.

"Besides," Cheryl sighed. "I don't feel safe out at sea. Too many things can happen…"

"Things happen on land, too."

Cheryl sighed and shook her head. "I can't, Jack. I just can't." She paused for a moment. "I'm too afraid." She looked up at Jack, and smiled. "But if it's any consolation," she sipped from the chipped china cup genteelly, "I'll still be here, in Tortuga. It's not like I have anywhere else to go."

Jack tossed back the rest of his tea and rose to his feet. "Then I'd better head back to the Pearl," he said, grinning easily. "They'll be wondering where I'm at."

Cheryl turned her sea-green eyes to Jack; to the man she'd loved and the father of her children. "But will you be back?"

Jack grinned easily. "Now that I know I've got someone waiting for me, I think I will." He dipped in a brief bow, kissing Cheryl on the cheek. "But can you wait for me?" He whispered.

Cheryl shook her head, smiling slightly. "I don't know, Jack… I mean, James at the _Faithful Bride_ has been giving me the glad-eye lately…" She laughed softly.

"He'd better blood not have been," Jack growled, reaching for his hat and his coat. He made for the door.

Cheryl stood up, putting her empty cup aside. "You're not even going to say goodbye properly?" She asked, spreading her arms wide.

Jack came to her, and let himself be wrapped in the embrace of the woman he loved. Of the mother of his children. "I'll be back, luv," he murmured, breathing in the scent of her hair. "I promise."

Cheryl stepped back, as though to argue that his promises weren't worth anything… but she saw the look in his dark brown eyes, and just nodded. "I'll be waiting," she said. Her throat closed up as she watched Jack slip out into the night, but she told herself not to cry.

Jack put his hat on and swaggered down the street, whistling through his teeth as he made his way back to the _Black Pearl_. His pockets were almost empty, but he didn't care. Tonight was the best night he'd had in Tortuga in a long time.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw furtive movement. A small child dashed out of the shadows and bumped into him, muttering pardons. Jack smiled as he felt the hand of the second child rifle in his pockets. She'd find a coin or two… and the boy would have grabbed what remained of his coin-purse.

_If you were blind, you wouldn't notice_, Jack had said to Cheryl. But when you're their father, you'll always know.

**

* * *

A/N: **

And no, Nerwen and Tinuviel, the twins are not Johnny and Kelly. J and K aren't even twins, so nyah.  
_-edit_- Fixed some things, answered a scientific question (-.-;;) 


End file.
